


Back to Russia; Away From Love

by Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible



Series: Help I Can't Stop Rainbow Sixing [2]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Concentration Camps (Mentioned), Death Threats, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Thinly veiled threats, no beta reader we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible/pseuds/Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible
Summary: After being snitched on by new teammate Olivier, Maxim finds himself being pulled away from the only thing he could bring himself to care about:  Timur.  Nothing about it was fair- they hadn't been bothering anyone.He wasn't meant to be a paperboy.





	1. Goodbye, Russian Embassy.

**Author's Note:**

> It only took forever to write this but here it is, nerds. The rating might change but who knows. Enjoy this, even though it's a short mess.

Maxim made his way out the large, threatening looking doors of the Russian Embassy in England.  He supposed that he'd have to go home now, back to doing paperwork; laughed at by some Kremlin who thinks that that's all he's ever been.  

 

A paperboy.

 

He _also_ supposed that he'd have to say goodbye to his friends, and the life he had come to enjoy.  He couldn't call it lush; certainly, but it was good enough for him and he'd met some interesting characters along the way.  Dominic, the local prankster (with Elias' help, mind you); Mark, the troubled kid who seemed more wise than all the rest of them somehow; Jordan, the self-proclaimed cool guy; Gustave, with his _interesting_ take on what could only be called "medicinal field work"; and Timur.  Maxim wasn't sure how he could describe that man, given the chance.  He'd simply call him a hunter he guessed and act as though the question had never presented itself.

 

Timur was cool and calm and collected and you never had to tell him where to be at any given time.   _I should be realistic, I can't treat him like a god forever.  He's just got situational awareness, I guess.  Although that's some hellishly unnatural awareness if anyone were to ask me..._ And Maxim really hated saying it, but Timur was certainly a better soldier than he.  

 

 _A better lover too, to be sure.  I'm lousy.  At least he knows that I try._ Trying was all that could be hoped for from Maxim.  He wasn't a true romantic as Timur had declared himself when Maxim had clumsily admitted his feelings to a slightly disinterested Timur.

 

* * *

 

_The room was filled with Russian being quietly mumbled into the silence.  "So I'm sure you don't care at this point, but that's that.  My feelings laid out on the table."_

 

_Timur blinked once, twice, and with the third blink came a frown.  "If we get caught we go to prison."_

 

_"I know the risks."_

 

_Still, he pressed.  "We'll never get our jobs back and for all we know we'll get killed in said prison."_

 

_"Trust me Timur, I know the risks."  Maxim takes a shaky step forward and continued.  “We wouldn’t die in prison, shut it.”_

 

_“We could.”_

 

_“But we wouldn’t.  What are the chances we get caught anyways?”_

 

_“Slim but it’s there.”_

 

_A long drawn out silence conquers the room.  Maxim shakes his head and scoffs.  “I knew this was a bad idea.  I’m sorry I’ll leave you to… to whatever you were doing.”  He turns sharply on his heel and begins his solemn march out of the room._

 

_“Good thing I’ve never cared about the risks.” There was a smile that Maxim could hear playing on Timur’s mouth and he begged his legs to turn him around faster so he could see it, but when he brought his eyes down to Timur’s mouth the expression was gone._

 

_They stood like that for a long while, at least what felt like a long while.  “Were you ever going to come over here and kiss me? You can’t seem to stop staring at my lips.” Maxim shook his head, flushing.  “Oh? Embarrassed, are we? Don’t be.  I won’t bite you.  Yet…”  He bit his lip seductively then smirked.  Sometimes Maxim forgot how much younger Timur was than him.  Eight years meant a lot, especially when one of them was still in his twenties._

 

_“Well why don’t you take the lead? You seem far more confident than I now that you’ve decided that this will work.”  Maxim tried to offer._

 

_“This isn’t about that, Maxim.  Not for me.  This is about whether it’s worth my time or not.  So far it’s looking like the latter.  If you’ve changed your mind, I understand.  It is stressful, but I’m nearly positive that no one would say anything even if they did see us.  What do you think Emmanuelle is going to care? Or that anyone else will? No.”  Timur had stepped forward into Maxim’s space and reached out for his hand.  “If this isn’t what you want, I can accept that.  Just...please for the love of all that is good stop sitting there staring at me like I just took a bullet through my brain.”  He finished the sentence with a boyish laugh._

 

_Maxim still didn’t know how to proceed, so he started with grabbing the hand that was offered to him.  “Oh! I seemed to have lifted the magical spell placed on you.  I’m glad, you’re less fun when you don’t talk to me.”_

 

_“Fuck off.”_

 

_“With you? Gladly.”  Maxim’s face flushed a deep red and he used his other hand to cover his face.  “No! I- Erm...I’m sorry.  I’m not used to this and I didn’t actually think this would work.  Relationships aren’t quite like hunting-”_

 

_“I am fully aware, Maxim.  Be quiet, now.  Just do something.  Actions still speak louder than words do.”  It felt like it took days for Maxim’s lips to reach Timur’s.  But when they did, he felt like they were meant there and he liked it.  They moved against each other perfectly and Maxim felt right at home raising his hands to tangle in Timur’s hair._

 

_When Maxim pulled away, the lazy smile that graced Timur’s lips could have killed him._

 

* * *

 

At least he wasn't getting sent to prison.

 

He approached Hereford Base far faster than he wanted to.  He’d been called from Six’s secure line and she had informed him of his immediate discharge.  He forced his eyes shut as he was dropped off and the entrance to the base.

 

He walked.  And walked, and walked, and walked...and then he stopped in front of the door to the barracks.  “Kill me.”  He pulled the metal door open and he was greeted with the faces of all 38 of his colleagues.  They all looked somber and no one said anything.  Silently, he strode past them and climbed the stairs to find his room.  Their eyes burned holes into the back of his head and he fought the urge to turn back to look at them.  

 

He entered his room, Alexandr’s uniform laying out in various places around the room.  His things were all neatly folded in their dressers and he pulled out his suitcase from their shared closet, easily filling it with his belongings.  He let it rest against his desk and he sat on his bed and sighed.  There was a tug at the door handle, Alexandr pushing through into the room.  

 

“Timur is waiting for you to come back down.  We all sort of have been.  Come out and spend some time with us.”  The older man went quiet and sat beside him, before resting his hand on his shoulder.  “Before you have to go, друг.”  Things were tense but he stood anyway, shrugging the older Russian off of him.  “Back downstairs we go, then.”  

 

The walk down was silent and Maxim felt like he was stalking a deer in the woods, but he wasn’t; and as they rounded the corner of the staircase and he saw Timur with a sad face and his teary, puffy eyes- the pained, choked sobs he was holding back proved that.  


	2. Goodbye, Timur Glazkov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that the second chapter took so long to post. I lost my passion for it, and I couldn't bring myself to continue writing something that I knew I wouldn't be happy with. I'm back now, after having a little motivation to continue, in the hopes that I can have this finished by the end of the month, or better yet, by my birthday! This is still not exactly what I wanted but I'm happy with the way it turned out nonetheless! I hope you enjoy it!

There was a moment that passed over the room when he first entered.  Everyone was staring at him, he could tell; he only cared about the eyes of Timur, which were staring at him so intensely he thought he might break down under them.  No one said anything, and he willed himself to stay strong.  

 

Then Olivier walked in.  

 

It was as if he  _knew_ that he wasn't welcome, beaming with what looked like pride under their scrutiny.  "What's going on here?  A goodbye party?  And I wasn't invited?"  He sniggered but was shut up by a sharp jab to his ribs from Lera.  "Whatever, you aren't my crowd anyways..."  Despite was had been said about him 'growing up', Maxim honestly couldn't tell if he was 32 or 16 sometimes.  He stared as the Frenchman stalked off and saw the subsequent relaxation of a small group of people after he was gone, himself included.  

 

He stepped forward a small bit, anxious to hold Timur, but not confident in his ability to contain his emotions.  Gustave took a step forward to nudge Timur in Maxim's direction, and he was grateful.  "So it was Olivier then?"  Maxim recognized Mike's voice from anywhere; gruff and upset, rumbling from behind him.  "Honestly not surprised.  Knew he was a bit of a baddie the moment I laid my eyes on him,"  Maxim turned to look at Mike, whose eyes were trained down to the ground.  "Not that he isn't a good soldier, but the boy can't keep his nose out of other people's business."

 

"No he can't."  Timur sounded as though he'd been stabbed through the heart.  Maxim supposed that he may as well have been.  When he turned back around, Timur was practically standing on his toes.  "Maxim...Maxim you  _can't_ go!"  It was a plea meant for only him, whispered into the short distance between them, and if others heard they did not speak up.  "You can't go..."  Before Timur even noticed the tear falling, Maxim had already swept it away, his hand lingering a moment on Timur's cheek.  "What will I do?"  He didn't give Maxim the time to respond before he added, "what will _you_ do?  You aren't meant for anything less than this, Maxim!  This isn't right!"  Maxim smiled at him sadly with a shake of his head, taking a miniscule step back.

 

"I do not know, exactly.  I was informed of my demotion to a paper clerk but that sort of humiliation isn't the kind I'd like to face,"  he paused a moment, carding a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh.  It felt like the room was holding its breath, waiting for him to add something worthwhile.  He wasn't sure he could stomach to say exactly what he was thinking.  

 

Luckily, he had friends like Dominic to help him.

 

"But you'll be persecuted if you go back, you can't!  We all know what happens to gay men in Russia.  All of us."  Maxim hated hearing the distaste in Dominic's voice as he spoke of his homeland but he supposed the hatred was well earned.  Alexsandr stepped forward, with a hand held up.

 

"It isn't stated anywhere in our laws that he can be discriminated against!"

 

"Oh but it's implied, big guy!  I've looked over your rules since we started having problems with y'all again.  We  _do_ all know exactly what'll happen, and none of us'll see Maxim again."  Jordan's honesty was refreshing, but Maxim had already wasted enough time worrying about that on the bus ride back to Hereford Base.  

 

"That is _enough_.  Spend time with me while you can, then."  He crossed his arms and stared down at Timur, reflecting on their conversation that seemed so long ago.  He'd known what prison meant when they talked; some of those camps still existed, and with camps like those, there were always people willing to kidnap you and take you to one.  Hate fed hate, and that was a sentiment he'd learned of as a child.  "Be with me while you can..."  It was a whisper meant only for Timur but the curling of Eliza and Emmanuelle's lips showed that he was not nearly quiet enough.

 

"I won't argue with hanging out with you, друг!"  Lera had since approached and with that, slapped Maxim so hard on his back that he coughed and stumbled forward, straight into the arms of Timur.  

 

The group of them shuffled into the break room to the right, leaving just Maxim, Timur, and a lingering Gustave, who was smiling at them.  He looked almost melancholic, and Maxim would have been confused were it not for him remembering that Gustave had a sweetheart back home, waiting for him.  The distant look in his eyes went away as he beckoned them closer.  "I will get you out of this, Maxim.  I don't care what I have to do.  You don't deserve this,"  Maxim felt his heart swell, knowing that the man wasn't lying.  "Come now, they're likely waiting on bated breath!"  He smiled a warm, gentle smile to the both of them, and Maxim realized that he couldn't understand why people dislike doctors.  

 

"Of course, doctor."  He smirked at Gustave who turned with a huff of a sigh and led them into the room where everyone was already casually lounging about without them.  

 

"Time to party, let's go!"  The enthusiastic comment of Jack was either missed, ignored, or quickly forgotten as people like James, Tina, Miles, and Julien all crowded around Maxim to give him a hug.  He felt loved and appreciated and would have given in to the tears threatening to run down his face were it not for Timur, resting a hand on his back gently.  

 

Maxim had one night, he would not let it go to waste.  

 

* * *

 

The party had come and gone and so Maxim lay next to Timur, grasping his hand tightly, knowing that this would likely be the last time he could ever do so.

 

"Maxim, I have to go.  Alexsandr will be here any minute and I don't want him to see-"  Maxim raised his free hand to cover Timur's lips.  

 

"Hush, Душа моя...I know.  Go, then."  Timur stood and dressed quickly before hesitating as he walked for the door.  He turned back to look at Maxim and he was crying again.  Because of him.  "Goodbye, Timur Glazkov."  It was his turn to hesitate, and he only continued when Timur turned his back again to walk out.  "I love you."

 

"I love you too, Maxim.  Goodbye."  The sadness in his voice was palpable, but there was a smile there, Maxim could hear it.  He watched Timur take his leave, closing the door behind himself silently.  Maxim sighed and turned to bury his face in his pillow, ignoring the sad 'goodnight' from Alexsandr when he entered the room to fall into his own bed.  

 

He prayed that Gustave  _would_ find a way to help him out of this mess, but refused to count on it.  He had never believed in miracles before, and he wouldn't start now.  

 

* * *

 

 

Though Maxim didn't fall asleep that night, nor did he sleep any on the way to the airport, as he boarded his plane to return to Russia, to leave his love behind, he didn't feel tired at all.  He felt anxious and overly awake; he wanted to run all the way back to the base, scoop Timur up into his arms, and run away with him.  But when the flight attendants checked the seatbelts on the passengers, Maxim knew he wouldn't be running back to his love anytime soon.  All he had was one of his shirts and a hope- a blinding hope that maybe, just  _maybe_ , Gustave could pull him through this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please yell at me if I don't post the third chapter by the 14th. Please. I need the motivation coming from an outside source. 
> 
> Okay so I know I said by the 14th but honestly, it’s going to be closer to the 21st, which is my birthday. Mum’s birthday was far more hectic than I though it would be, but I have time again! Thanks for your support~! <3


	3. Please Don't Say Goodbye, Maxim Basuda.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxim nearly gives up. Then, he gets a few calls from some persistant friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhhhhhh I'm so SORRY that this took SO LONGGGGG- but hey I more than doubled the length so I hope the 3200+ words are good to you :')
> 
> I finally got back into the game again and damn- so much pain and inspiration made me realize exactly how to close this story. It's- a bit too angsty for me to reread at the moment so I apologize for any errors. I used this chapter as an outlet for personal problems and feelings a lot, sooo...it all the feelings come straight from my heart.
> 
> I'm sorry if it's a lot.
> 
> (And no I'm not sorry that my self-insert OC is just absolutely enamoured with Doc because fucking hell so am I- and go ahead and @ me because I am a proud stan of this man)

Maxim had quickly realized that Russia had nothing for him when he'd arrived back 'home'.  The consulate he worked at was filled with white collar men who spent more time sniggering at him than doing their jobs.  He knew all of the gossip and he had heard all of the insults- it was tiring.  He'd been running papers all morning, from office to office.  His feet hurt and he felt shaky; he hadn't eaten since the morning before and his break wasn't for three more hours.  

 

"Basuda, my office, please," an angry sounding mumble came from one of the cubical offices.  Maxim sighed and rubbed a hand against his face, "yes, sir."

 

Maxim hurriedly dropped off the rest of his papers and rushed over to the office he was called to.  "You asked to see me?"  The office was cluttered and dark and Maxim thought that it smelled of cigarettes.   _Disgusting_.  He was directed to a filing cabinet and when he reached out to open it, he was stopped by a firm hand pushing him back.  The man quickly opened the cabinet, removed a single file, shoved it into Maxim's chest, slammed the cabinet shut, and turned from him.  

 

"This needs to be delivered to Mr. Fedoseyev immediately.  No one else is to see it.  Directly to him, Basuda.   _Directly_.  If I hear word from anyone that they saw what was in this file, I will know,"  Maxim nodded gravely, and approached the door of the tiny office.  "I will know it was you," Maxim turned his head to the side, as if to ask if there was anything else.  " _I know people in Chechnya, Mr. Basuda_."  His eyes widened and his heart rate picked up.  If this man he'd never met before knew, so did everyone else.  He closed his eyes and exhaled softly.  He needed to escape from this hell he was living.  He was trapped so easily by these men, became afraid and weak so quickly- Maxim felt embarrassed.  " _Out_ , Basuda.  Before I call my associates in so they can deal with you personally."

 

Maxim did not need to be told again, slipping from the room quietly, with the all important file clutched tightly to his chest.  He weaved through countless bureaucrats and hirelings to make it to the office of the one 'Mr. Fedoseyev'.  He shuddered and knocked on the door harshly.  "Come in," was the reply.  It was a feminine voice as well, which meant he had a personal clerk.  He opened the door and drew his lips tight in a grimace.  She was just a secretary, one who would be killed even before Maxim himself if she saw the contents of the file.  "Is Mr. Fedoseyev in?  Very important file for him to see.  It's from-" he searched his memory for a name to place with that man and his dark room that smelled of cigarettes.  

 

"Oh!  You must be the man that Mr. Shaposhnikov sent over!  If you pass it off to me I can-"  she offered, but he shook his head firmly and raised a hand to her.  he could play the part of hostile informant if it meant keeping someone innocent safe.  "No," he countered swiftly, "that will not be possible.  Mr. Shaposhnikov said to give it straight to Mr. Fedoseyev.  So I'm afraid that I will have to meet him directly."  She looked down to her lap,with a slight nod.  He took the opportunity to sit down and sighed, slumping slightly into the chair.  He hadn't slept well since he'd returned to Russia; three months of poor sleep and improper nutrition was taking its toll on him.  

 

"Do...you work for mr. Shaposhnikov directly?  I'd like to know if we'll be working together closely in the future, is all.  Mr. Fedoseyev is very close to him and they do much business with each other."  He grunted and shook his head.  The small talk was pointless and it made him yearn for the closeness of his relationships in Team Rainbow.  He missed sparring with Lera and the witty banter he overheard between the Germans in the Mess Hall before morning training...he missed his Glazkov.  Besides, he had no intention of staying in that dreadful building for much longer.  He wanted to get away.  "So, a no, then?  That's a shame, you seem civil."

 

"I've killed more men than you could ever imagine,"  he barked at her, watching the way she flinched at the intensity of his words.  "I am not civil.  Not by the standards of people like  _you_.  Polite, perhaps but not civil."  He laughed cynically, the thought of any military minded Russian being _civil_.  "I just want to give this to your boss and leave this place for good."  there was a finality in his words that surprised even him: he had nowhere else to go, and if he shirked his duties and went home, they would easily track him down and put him back to a more labor intensive kind of work.  

 

She meekishly ignored him for the rest of his time there, allowing him to examine the space around him.  It was clean, and much larger than most offices in the embassy.   _He must be important,_   Maxim thought with a gruff hum.   _At least important enough to read classified documents in a fancy fucking office all day_.  The doors leading into the man's actual office space were large and gaudy, taking up too much of the wall to be practical.  He hated people who flaunted their wealth- and hated them even more if they were politicians.  Russia seemed to have a great supply of them, and Maxim was caught in the middle.   _Not for long..._

 

The entrance to the office opened, a man of small stature gliding into the room.  The young secretary pointed sheepishly to Maxim who raised the file and nodded briskly once.  He watched the man who Maxim assumed to be Mr. Fedoseyev glance between the secretary and himself once, twice, then three times.  When he approached, Maxim hesitated in handing over the file.  "mr. Fedoseyev, I presume?"  The man rolled his eyes and nodded, glancing upward to Maxim in some sort of annoyance.

 

"Of course I am.  Give me that," he snatched the file from Maxim without a second breath and opened it, scanning over the documents.  "No one else touched it?"  Maxim stayed silent but shook his head.  "Good.  At least Shaposhnikov learned his lesson from last time.  Thank you, you can go."

 

"Yes sir, you're welcome."  He dipped his head and watched the man rush into his office, the grossly large doors slamming shut behind him.  The sound of locks tumbling shut gave him clearance to leave, and he exited quickly, ignoring whatever goodbye the young lady behind the desk had offered him.  His stomach growled uncomfortably and he winced when his knees buckled under him.  He was weak, and he couldn't deny it.  He clamored his way to the stairs that led up to the roof silently, barely breathing loud enough to even hear it himself.  

 

His cell phone buzzed quietly in his pocket halfway up the last flight of stairs, but he ignored it.  He'd decided what he needed to do.  He didn't know when his mind had been made up but the thought that perhaps it had been a long time coming sat at the foremost of his mind, taunting him.  He made it to the top of the staircase and paused at the steel door before pushing it open, stepping out into the night that had apparently set on Moscow.

 

The air was freezing as per usual, and Maxim took comfort in how inviting it felt.  He hummed as he walked toward the ledge of the building, feeling the vibrations deep through his chest.  He perched himself on the edge of the rooftop, sitting down precariously on the stone.  He was going to choose how he went out, he decided, rather than to wait for the men from Chechnya to come for him.  His phone went off again, just another money man needing him to run errands for him, just another reminder of all that he wanted to leave behind.  

 

All that he  _was_ leaving behind.  

 

The world seemed to go quiet for a moment, and Maxim Basuda was ready to say goodbye for the last time.  

 

He slid forward,  _just an inch_ , relishing in how close he felt to being free.  He craved it- craved freedom.  He was excited for the first time in months.  He was ready for his next step.  His last step.  

 

He didn't think to spare a thought for Timur, or Lera, or his other friends- just a saying he learned from Jordan when he was saying goodbye to his niece and nephew before a particularly dangerous assignment.  He didn't know when Jordan had learned it, but repeating it was a comfort nonetheless.

 

"Remember me and smile, for it's better to forget than remember me and cry..." he rested his hands behind him, sliding forward ever so slowly.  He closed his eyes and prayed that his little brothers would never find out- that he'd be forgotten.  He prayed that he wouldn't hit anyone on his way down.  He was so close and-

 

_Bzzzzzzzzz...Bzzz...Bzzz...Bzzzzzzzzzz..._

 

The sound scared him straight back onto the rooftop.  He begrudgingly peeked down at his phone to read the alarming Caller ID that had appeared on it.

 

It read, 'Dr. Kateb', and showed the man's work ID photo: all serious but with a hint of a smile in his eyes.  He glanced back over the edge and cursed.  The buzzing stopped- he'd missed the call.  His eyes widened as he saw the sixteen missed calls from Gustave, Lera, Eliza, Tina...Timur.  There were easily over one hundred texts from his various former colleagues and one number he didn't recognize, and he swallowed hard, realizing just what he'd been planning to let go of.  

 

His hands fumbled about his phone, unsure of who to respond to first.  The number he didn't recognize called and he took a deep breath, answering.

 

"...hello?"  A surprised gasp came from the other end.

 

"Ah, putain!  Gustave, c'est ton amie!" The voice was soft and feminine but even still her shout was powerful and she gained the attention of the doctor, as she wanted.  He heard Gustave laugh- a rare occurrence and plant what sounded like a kiss square on her lips.  He mumbled something to her in hurried French and the next thing Maxim knew, he was being bombarded with worried sounding questions from a clearly tired and stressed man who'd probably been expecting him to answer them right away.  He hadn't been able to get ahold of them in weeks and weeks.  

 

"Whos number is this Gustave?"  The line went quiet and Gustave spoke into the background.  There was a brief moment of silence before he quickly replied, "my lady love's."  More shouting and an angry sounding voice before Gustave let out a surprised 'oh" and the phone was no longer in his possession. 

 

" _You_.  What is wrong with you?  You've had Alexsandr, Shuhrat, and I worried all day!  And don't even get me started on Timur, Maxim.  He thought you were dead.   _We all did_.  When you can't get ahold of someone fo that long and they-" Maxim let out a shaky breath and listen to Lera rant at him for a moment, ghosting a hand across the ribs of his that she broke.  Her shouts grounded him and he stood, backing away from the building's ledge.  "Lera," he started.  " _What_.  I'm not done, Basuda-"

 

"I almost was."  She huffed out an angry breath, "what?"  He sighed and trudged toward the door that lead back downstairs.  "Dead.  I was about to- look.  Did Gustave have good news for me?  I need good news.  Badly."  He listened to her voice crack over a weak whimper, and she rambled nonsensically to him--long enough for him to exit the building and begin his walk back to his shoddy little apartment building--until she passed the phone off to someone else, whispering to them before doing so.

 

"Hello?"  There was nothing for a moment.  Maxim peeled off into a small, snow covered park.  Children were playing and shouting, they looked happy and Maxim managed a small smile.  He sat beneath a barren tree and waited for the response.  

 

"You wanted good news, Maxim Basuda?"   _Timur_.   _Timur Glazkov_. 

 

Maxim repeated the name in his head until his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp sobbing noise.  "The good news is that you're still alive.  And that I still love you."  Maxim sighed and rubbed furiously at his eyes to stop any tears that had formed in them from rolling down his cheeks.  "The best news is that he found a way, Maxim.  You get to come back to me.  I don't know what he did, or who he talked to, but he did it.  I get you back and we can be together again, and you can finally take me on that big hunting trip you planned for us ages ago and we'll..." Maxim didn't mean to tune him out, but the words seemed to good to be true.  He feared it was all a dream; he feared that he would wake up and it would all go away.  He'd have to return to working as a paperboy.  He worried that maybe, he wouldn't wake up at all.  The best things in his life were simply flashing before his eyes.  Perhaps he  _had_ jumped from the building and ended it all.  He hoped he hadn't.  He didn't want to say goodbye yet, so he closed his eyes and prayed.  

 

* * *

 

 

He awoke to a kind stewardess beckoning him off the plane.  He grumbled out a tired apology and grabbed his small bag of belongings, the jingle of his dog tags bringing something close to a smile onto his face.  His heart was racing- he was going to see his love for the first time in months.  He had so much to tell him.

 

The airport was quiet for a weekday morning, and he was grateful.  He didn't want people to see him fall into the embrace of another man like a sappy American romantic comedy.  He wanted to be alone in that moment, with Timur Glazkov, the man he said goodbye to.  

 

"There he is!"  The heavy French accent drew his attention and he saw Gustave standing with a young lady, waving him over.  So he  _wouldn't_ be seeing Timur as soon as he'd like.  He was disappointed, but the girl smiled so sweetly at him and held out a hand in greeting so gently that he ignored the pain a moment to meet her.  "A pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Basuda!  Valérie Laurent, I'm-" she paused a moment and looked over to Gustave who smiled warmly at her.  

 

"I think I've discerned exactly what you are to him, Ms. Laurent.  You're younger than I thought you'd be."  He smirked as she floundered for words and Gustave rolled his eyes, holding out a hand to lead them out of the airport.  The remarkably short walk was made even shorter as he pried into his friend's personal and romantic life, only hushing when they both saddened at the mention of their meeting.  He let it be and soon, they were in Valérie's sporty car from an Italian maker that had a name he couldn't pronounce, driving back to Hereford.  

 

Valérie had let Gustave drive, and she was pummeling Maxim with questions.  "So, you're quite excited to be back, yes?"  He briefly explained to her that yes, he was happy to be back with the people he considered his family.  She nodded and smiled at him in the same way Gustave always smiled at his friends.  "How close are you and Gus?  He never speaks of his colleagues, so I don't get to hear anything about you people!"

 

"Not nearly close enough, I don't think.  He's...a good friend nonetheless.  He helped Timur and I when I was unsure if anyone would.  He didn't have to but-" she hummed and swayed side to side.  "But he did."  Her good mood was rubbing off onto him, her empathetic nature bleeding into life around her.  "I can see why the two of you are...involved.  You're a perfect match."  She blushed and stuttered and reached out to rest a hand on Gustave's shoulder.  

 

"Thank you, Maxim.  It means a lot to hear you say that.  I was glad to help.  I'd want someone to do the same for me if Valérie and I were in a similar situation, so it's only fair, oui?"  Maxim shrugged and stared out the window of the lavish car.  He'd avoided the comment about their relationship entirely, of course.  Never one to make a conversation about himself.  "Oh, and Maxim?  I'm going to get you help.  I can only do so much," Maxim grunted at that and rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from Valérie.  A glare from Gustave to her quickly silenced it and they were all quiet, no noise save for the radio playing classical music until they arrived at the looming gate of Hereford Base once more.

 

Maxim felt like he was dreaming when he saw it.  It almost looked new, and the large group standing out, waiting for him with Timur at front and center made him feel like floating.  

 

The moment the car was parked his seatbelt was off and his door was open, his feet carrying him toward his goal, steadily approaching him as well, with the same vigor.  When he was within arms reach of Timur he latched on with no intention of letting go.  Timur was crying and rocking side to side, his head buried in the crook of Maxim's neck.  "They said you were going to...Lera told me that-" Maxim hushed him and held him even tighter still.

 

"That doesn't matter now.  I have you back.  Like you said before I came home to you: the good news is that I'm still alive."  Timur laughed sadly, the sound muffled by Maxim's neck.  The feeling tickled so he pulled back a bit to look into Timur's eyes, red from his tears.  

 

"You forgot the other part," Timur sounded like a child when he spoke he was so quiet; but Maxim simply pressed his forehead against Timur's and gently rested his lips on the other man's.  He savored the way their lips felt on each others and pressed forward slightly before pulling them apart.  They'd have all the time in the world later.  

 

"And what part would that be?"  He teased, running a hand down Timur's arm to grab his hand.  He'd never acted so juvenile, certainly not in front of people like Alexsandr. 

 

"That I still love you."  Their lips rushed forward to meet again and Maxim only faintly heard Gustave shoo everyone back into the base to 'give them privacy'.  He thought for a moment to thank him later before pressing deeper into the kiss, mumbling a soft 'I love you too' into his lover's lips.  He realized then, what he'd say to anyone who asked him to describe Timur Glazkov to them.  

 

He was simply the man Maxim loved who loved him back.  It was pure and simple and good and it was something that Maxim hoped would last forever.  He couldn't survive another goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know that you matter. To me and to so many other people, even if you don't think so. Be safe because I wasn't. Much love to you all. (Also lmao who wants more content hahahahaha I'M READY TO WRITE MORE)
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Translation(s):
> 
> друг- Friend


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